“Then my suit-case will go in free,” said Billy. “It is one of the first crop of suit-cases that was raised in this country, and I value it more as a relic than as a suit-case. I carry it more as a souvenir than as a suit-case.”
“Souvenirs are different,” said Mr. Fenelby. “Souvenirs are classed as luxuries, and pay thirty per cent. If you consider it a souvenir it pays duty.”
“I will consider it a suit-case,” said Billy promptly. “I will consider it a poor old, worn-out suit-case.”
“I think that would be better,” agreed Mr. Fenelby. “But we will have to wait and see what Laura considers it.”
As on the previous evening the ladies were on the porch, enjoying the evening air, when Mr. Fenelby reached home, with Billy in tow, and Billy greeted them as if he had never wished anything better than to meet Miss Kitty.
“Where is this custom house Tom has been telling me about?” he asked, as soon as the hand shaking was over. “I want to have my baggage examined. I have dutiable goods to declare. Who is the inspector?”
“‘I declare one collar’”